


The Property of Edge

by petalSpitter



Category: The Property of Hate
Genre: Gen, edgy au, hero just wants to have an adventure, rgb is a manipulative bastard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petalSpitter/pseuds/petalSpitter
Summary: This horrible and wonderful thing was inspired by  a single text post  that spiraled out of control between the three of us. Chipper's art of Edgy-B is wonderful you should all go look at it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShiekahMeta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiekahMeta/gifts).



A man crept into a child’s room, listening to the sound of sniffles. Ah, perfect. A moment of weakness in an already weak creature. It was almost unfair how easily children could be led astray... But their fragility outweighed their naivety more often than not. A delicate balancing act, but it wasn’t the man himself falling off the tightrope, so why should he give a damn?  
  
“I say...” What would he say? What mundane tragedy had befallen the child? Sent to bed without dinner? Spanked? Made to sit in a corner? Grounded (perhaps this mark wasn’t old enough for even that)? A toy recklessly broken and left _heartlessly_ unreplaced by their parents so they can break it again? He checks the trash can, finding exactly what he was looking for. A stuffed frog, with a gash in its belly, half the stuffing missing and mud stains on what remained. Clumsy sewing of the gash showed the child’s desperation in saving the toy. The man turns back to the bunk beds, the child still sniffling and staring at the wall.

“I say...” He says, louder and more pointedly. 

“I said, _I say_....” He waits, and they turn over in bed, eyes red from their sobbing. “Would you like some shiny new toys?” 

They smile and nod, eyes now bright. “Capital! We’ve lots to do and little time to do it, so chop chop.” The man stands on the dresser, fishing the hero out of bed until they piped up in protest. 

“Wait!” They grab into the bunk bed, as he was already stepping off the dresser. 

Ugh. He hated the ones that dawdled. “What is it?” 

“I need m’ boots and coat.” The man huffs, looking around and grabbing the items, shoving them into the hero’s arms. 

“And _now_  we are off.” RGB huffs, dropping the child and leading them to the roof. 

“But wait, I-!” Hero takes one final look down the hall, then scurries toward the man, not wanting to be left behind. 

“You had exactly one chance for delay, and you’ve already used it.” The man explains, snapping his fingers and summoning a bamboo cane. “Besides, I'm sure it wasn't that important.”

The hero seemed a little miffed at his words, about open her mouth and say that saying her goodbyes was very important when he did something incredible- 

With nothing but a wave of his cane he turned the smoke from the chimney into a rowboat, climbing into it as if it was as solid as a real one. He always did have a flair for the dramatic. (And for not giving his heros a chance to back out.) 

“Well? Are you coming?” The boat began to drift up, and the hero scrambled to climb in before it was gone. As soon as they climbed in the boat took off faster, racing toward the clouds. Soon they broke through them, sailing on a sea of clouds and toward a collection of doors. 

Hero felt an odd twinge in their chest, looking around with a concerned look. “Am I dead?”

“No.” Not yet anyway. “What makes you ask?” The man had dipped his cane into the clouds, creating a fanciful umbrella out of the material. 

“Doesn't a certain God use boats to carry dead people away? On... The river Sticks?” 

He chuckles at the thought of styling himself into a reaper (he practically was one already, with his god awful track record), then corrects the child. "It's ‘Styx’, and my plans for you, my dear, are the exact opposite.”

“What're your plans?” They ask, turning to him. 

The boat bumps into one of the many doorways, jostling the boat. “That will have to wait-” The man climbs out of the boat, standing on the clouds and waiting for the hero to follow. 

“RGB.” He says, pulling out a key.

“Huh?” The hero stands at his side, looking up at him.

“My name. Rather catchy, isn’t it?” RGB unlocks the door, letting it fall open and marching in briskly, sure that his hero would follow. Until she yawned, the sound of her footsteps suddenly stopping. “Come along now.” He turns to them, picking them up off the ground with the hook of his cane.   
  
“But I’m tired...” They protest.

“Of course you are. It’s night.”   
  
“But it was morning just a few minutes ago!”   
  
“Well, where you were it was morning, but here is it night. Simple enough. Now come... Night is... Unpleasant around here.” He unhooked them off the edge of his cane, walking just fast enough to stay ahead of them. If they were constantly fighting to keep up, they’d have far less time to stop and think, after all.   
  
So he pressed them to walk until it was nearly witching hour, only pausing in a grove of cherry trees. (A real grove of trees, not a place that thought itself to be one... He made that mistake one before.) “We should be safe now. Come on, this space looks-” 

He stops when he spots a ghostly girl leaning against a tree. “Oh. Still haven’t given me a bouquet for the last one, have you?” She looks at the pair with one massive eye and nods, rising to her feet and floating a few inches in the air as she fishes a massive bouquet of dark red roses out of her own eye. The florist presents it to him and he takes it with a too-wide smile.

She then crouches to get a closer look at the child, then pulls out a single sprig of baby’s breath, presenting it to them as well.  “Thank you...” The hero takes it gingerly, then watches her float away. 

As soon as she’s out of sight RGB tears the bouquet’s binding apart and throws it over his shoulder.   
  
“Why’d you do that? I thought it was pretty...” Hero looks back at the crumbled roses, making to go back for them until RGB hooks her again.    
  
“They’re nothing but useless reminders. I don’t dwell on my failures.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hero tucks the baby’s breath into their pocket.

“I mean I don’t think about my losses. Weren’t you tired before?” His last sentence is more pointed than usual. 

 

  
“Yeah...” The hero curls up under a tree, staring up at the starless sky before falling asleep.


End file.
